Coffee & Flowers: Routines

I’ve recently become very attached to my daily routine—I feel like the ins and outs of everyday are something that as a student, I wasn’t really able to appreciate fully because of the loose structure of my life back in college (the later years, anyway). I always felt like I was either in such a rush—to get to school, to beat traffic—that I was always half and half out of my routine or in a state of intense apathy (f it, I’m not going today). In a lot of ways, working has really reinforced that part of me that enjoys the stability of knowing where I’ll be, when I’ll be. I’m not sure if all this will be very interesting to anyone but I decided to share this anyway because it makes me happy. 🙂 And that’s what coffee and flowers is about. Click under the cut for more!

Continue reading “Coffee & Flowers: Routines”


This is a very odd emotion, for me—one of the trickiest, in my opinion: how do you express fondness without coming off like an idiot or like you are more than fond of someone or like you’re being insincere? I know it seems odd for fondness to come off as insincere but it has been my experience that this happens more than you would think. Personally, I feel like every time someone tries to compliment me or to say something sweet to me “out of the blue” a part of me is asking are you being sarcastic? As if having to articulate how fond you are of someone wasn’t bad enough, having to reiterate it just feels like too much torture for one person to handle all in one sitting: I’m always tempted to go the other way and be like haha, gotcha or something just to spite them. Sadly, it isn’t the person on the receiving end of this expression of feeling who is dying from frustration at being unable to say something almost taboo: to say, I like being around you but do not necessarily want to have your babies.

When I think of fondness, I am reminded of dipping my foot into the pool when I was a kid—there was the opportunity to go swimming but I didn’t have a swimsuit. I am not equipped to jump in, but I like sitting here, sipping juice; I like being just kind-of immersed. I like this state of just being appreciative of this water and this juice and the afternoon and wanting to sleep and not fully doing neither.

But how is this expressed in everyday? How is this expressed directly? How do you say these things? You could say I kind of think you’re cool which wouldn’t be completely true; you could say I want to be your friend but that wouldn’t be completely true, either. You could maybe say I’m fond of you but again, see if that works.

I’ve figured it out: again, the painful answer is that you don’t. There is nothing you can say to someone about fondness that will ring as true as laughing at a joke or giving them some of your lunch or making a joke or not saying anything when they fart. A lot of the time there is nothing to do except to do. I forgot who it was who sang it—a musician, somewhere who I used to listen to (my memory fails me at the moment)—that he/she/it/they is/was all about words and words are absolutely useless.

They are. At least there’s this. I figure the everyday things will just have to carry through: being fully in the moment with people you’re fond of, whenever you can. This way the restraint almost feels like tenderness.

Into the Trap

I’ve never been good at waiting. It’s something that I have been terrible at since age 0. But I’m (slightly regretfully) now 23 and while I know that isn’t very long, I’m hoping two decades does count for something. While I am still partly a 2-year-old stomping my tiny feet in agitation at the prospect of waiting a few more days for a hint of something or for the breaking of this silence, I know it’ll be alright to wait or that I’ll survive the wait. Hay. Life is crazy sometimes. How is it that a day can seem so long and also seem so short once you realize you might not have it for long?

Like I said, I am a deeply illogical creature. I had a good day today, though. I laughed a lot.

In other news, my officemate (Hi, Joco) found my blog today. For some reason he decided to search my name on YouTube and kapoof, supposedly extinct videos–kapoof remnants of my somewhat failed past as a person who takes photos of herself every morning (oh, wait). Hahaha One key word and–awwwww, shit. I was just talking about how weird it is when the different parallel dimensions of your life collide and well, hello. It was weird but it really made me laugh. In a way, I’m kind of glad that he found it. I am curious as to how a person’s selves can come together. So strange! I also added my work friend Rain (another Rain, not Raine hahaha) on Facebook. So this is a step for me, putting my different worlds together.

I am somewhat reminded of the first time I ate ketchup with fries. Like it was weird but I felt like–so this is what normal people do. Somehow I feel that (based off of how many of my friends go out of town with “work friends” or whose high school barkadas somehow end up melding with their childhood friends or whatever) this kind of synergy is easier for most people to achieve. Meh. Speaking of self, though–I do really like the arbitrary selfie that follows.

Anyway, tonight and tomorrow morning I’m going to be working on a project for EM’s fifth issue which is going to be edited by FFY. All of this was already the torture I knew I’d subjected myself to when I began writing but I must admit, it has all been made even all the more fucking challenging by this goddamn heat.

Coffee & Flowers: Talkin’ Talk

There was this old D’Sound song that I was oh-so-fond of. It went a little bit like talkin’ talk is not just talk, getting’ there is half the walk or something. Hah. Let’s pretend I don’t remember. Today, I had a really good lunch break. I was able to sit around by myself for about fifteen minutes and was able to contemplate the following things: what is it about the pantry that is so comforting? What is it about reading that makes you feel okay? And moreover, why is it that there are so many aspects of a person’s life that run parallel to each other? Why is my office self different from my “writing” self? Or different from my family self? My student self? My music self? My girly self? My friend Raine said something interesting to me a few months ago: where have I hiding all my friends? She said that it was so curious that all the time she’s known me (around six years), she only met a huge lot of my friends this year. It was like I lived in a parallel world. It isn’t on purpose though, these parallel lives or parallel type of scenarios. Why do I feel like these things coming together is so odd? Why do I feel odd for them not coming together? Furthermore, is fiction the attempt at putting all these things together? Is it possible? Moreover, does it matter? Ah, all the pretentious kind of shit that I thumb through—which is just fine, I guess. All fiction is a kind of pretension anyway. Like all good literature or art, I guess what matters is that it’s believable.

And then some of my office mates decided to go on their lunch breaks as well and suddenly, there was a whole lot of talkin’ to be done. That was really nice. To put things in context: it isn’t often that I get to have lunch with other people because a) our office is a small but busy one and b) our lunch times are adjustable, according to our shifts and positions so that the office is never empty. Not that I mind this, either. I like productivity. It’s comforting to hear the clacking of keys. Today was one of those rare days when I got to spend my break actually talking to people. It’s very interesting, the number of things you can learn from people around you—or about the people around you.

There was talk about rice cookers: what you can make in them (noodles, soup, fried chicken) and how you can place them on the floor near the socket and accidentally step on them. There was talk about coffee and how cheap beans are and then the surreptitious look of disdain at the instant coffee maker. Someone said something about melons and how good they are with milk. Someone bit into preserved ham. I cut into my chicken nuggets. Someone mentions vegetables and someone else heads back to their desk.

I forgot my coffee at home today—that’s a first and possibly my karma for both drinking too much of it and trying to cut down on it rapidly. I’m still on the fence about whether or not karma operates so directly. I get the feeling that the minute that karma becomes reasonable or logical, I will no longer believe in it. I wonder if I believe in it. I wonder about logic, in general. I am an illogical person, underneath all the science-ing of this, or science-ing of that—I think that this is where my desire to outline or to enumerate or to force cohesion into things comes from: the actual lack of the belief that it can be achieved. And so I am superstitious: I do believe that somehow, not having the coffee may propel something bad to happen.

And nothing bad happened. I had dinner with my friend Trizha, I met my sister’s friend/teacher from her Creative Writing class. I talked a lot. And now I’m ready for bed. And maybe things will be okay, yes?


Coffee & Flowers: In Spite Of

Some days you’re just a little down in the dumps. And even if things go as planned, something feels a bit off: like you’re performing an action but your bones are misaligned and you just can’t get it to feel comfortable or like the thing you’re trying to do.

I’m on leave tomorrow; I need some me time.

Yesterday I hung out with my friend Abby, who is one of the few people that I met almost solely from selling stuff online. We sat for a couple of hours, talking about books and nostalgia and photographs and aesthetics we liked. We had really good coffee and a really good, refreshing conversation. It was one of the highlights of my day yesterday–the others being having sunflower crackers and coffee with my friend Ron early in the morning before working on preparations for EM’s launch and giggling with my friend Trizha on a carpet. I also found out later on in the day that Ron and Abby are the only two people who are working (or who worked, in Ron’s case) on a poetry thesis and eventually, I got them to talk! So yayyyy! 😀 Expansion of friendship circles!

Keav (my boyfriend) stayed over this weekend and I always feel better when’s he’s here–like things are going to be okay and nothing is ever that bad. I’m very lucky to have met him (we met really coincidentally) and to still be with him after all this time–of course things aren’t always perfect but for the most part, things are great. When all things fall apart, I can always count on him to be there.

All this good stuff is happening at an opportune moment, I suppose because I woke up today feeling really strange: on one hand, I was glad that we sold almost everything at last night’s launch and that nothing bad happened but on the other hand, I felt a kind of despair in the air as well.

I realized I don’t like drinking beer with strangers and I like attending events more than holding them and that a lot of people who you fall out of touch with, you fall out of touch with for a reason: last night I had a conversation with a friend who I hadn’t seen in a while and I realized the reason we hadn’t seen each other in over a year is that we had nothing (or not much) to say to each other anymore. I realized that just when you’ve settled into yourself, it’s almost time to shake that comfort off again. We always have to keep moving, sometimes this is freeing and sometimes it’s painful but I guess in spite of that pain we keep going because what we’re really working for is the priceless luxury of things that are in-between.

Is this all too vague? Maybe. But it’s all I had today, so goodnight. 🙂

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